The Dragon's Queen
by prettylittlepetticoats
Summary: Aegon Targaryen comes to the Eyrie to unite the 6 kingdoms, there he finds Sansa Stark, a girl with eyes he could drown in.
1. the moon follows me home

**authorsnote:** I know, I know - again, I should probably update my other fics before starting a new one right? Right?! But alas, I could not resist getting this one started. This idea literally came to me today, I'm not saying the pairing is original, but to my knowledge I haven't seen anyone do it in the way I'm planning to do it. I love this pairing and I want to do it right, hence my crack at this. This will be a multi-pairing fic, sansa/aegon, jon/someone, dany/someone (because for the love of god don't be fooled and think this is jon/dany, not gunna happen *shudders at boatsex*) - I just haven't worked out the pairings beside the main ones yet (any ideas? requests? let me know).

Anyways, this will be a full story, with threats, deaths, twists and turns and all sorts following the traditional game of thrones way. I'm super excited to write it, and plan to update as soon as I've finished my updates for other fics. This does follow the books a lot more than the show, so if you haven't read the books some of this stuff may confuse you, otherwise you should enjoy it! Well at least I hope you do, and on that note please follow/fav/review to show the love; I'm not one of those people who demands a certain number of reviews to continue writing, but they do encourage me.

Anyway, I've babbled, so here we go, onward to the fic. I do sincerely hope you enjoy.

Song recommendations: You belong to me - Cat Pierce.

* * *

The moon follows me home, I'm never alone,

hangs like the shine in my sweet babies eye.

Sings to me nightly, sings to me brightly,

tells me the secrets of the sky.

 **-x-**

He had smuggled her away, saved her from what surely would be a fate worse than death. He had protected her, claimed to have risked his own life for her (though she knew that was far from true), he had ensured her safety, kept her hidden away from the dangers of the world. He had done everything he could to make her safe, and yet she knew … she knew it wasn't out of the kindness of his own heart, it wasn't because he had cared for her Mother, or because he felt for her. No, he had other motives, dangerous motives, motives pushed by ambition and hatred and revenge. It was dangerous, extremely so, and she had to remind herself of that as each day passed.

And so, the days turned into weeks, into months, and soon a whole year had passed since they had arrived, since Petyr had taken his place as Regent and Leader of the Vale in all but name. A year since Sansa Stark had disappeared, and Alayne Stone had been born. 12 months didn't seem like such a long time, not in the long run of things, and yet it was, it had to be, with how much had happened since then.

Petyr ran the Vale, without question, without opposition, he took care of the finances, the armies… everything, and he did so unopposed, since no one dared stand against him and his loyal men. Sweetrobin was mainly kept in his rooms, out of the way, or 'cared for' as Petyr would say, though in reality he was locked away, so not to cause trouble, so not to get in the way of Petyr's grand plans. Petyr kept him happy of course, with Myranda Royce as his caregiver, with all the treats he wanted, all the stories he could find to have him told, and every comfort one could hope for. He was kept happy, though treated like a prisoner; of course, the child didn't know any better, and went along with it, only emerging for meals and the occasional social call that he was obligated to be at.

Alayne cared for him as well, though she pretended to love it, she didn't enjoy it. She didn't enjoy his shaking fits, his temper tantrums, and how he seemed determined to see her as his new Mother. She hated how he tried to sneak into her room every night to cuddle her (as he would often wet the bed, and kick her in his sleep), she hated how he always demanded her attention, hated how dependent he was on everyone around him. He was weak, so weak, at the mercy of Petyr, and though Alayne hated the former (she had grown to despise weakness), she could hardly judge the latter, for she too was at the mercy of the dangerous Regent of the Vale.

Still she pretended. She pretended to love Sweetrobin, indulging him, reading to him, letting him sit on her lap. She pretended that Petyr was her Father, pretended to love him too; she didn't flinch as he kissed her cheek, or wrapped his arm around her shoulders. She didn't think of Sansa Stark, but when she did she thought of her as another girl, a girl who had become lost in Westeros, lost to never return. She imagined Sansa Stark was dead, that was what many around the Vale assumed, Alayne agreed with them; nodded her head when they asked her opinion. None knew that Sansa Stark was here, with darker hair, and a low birth name, but alive, breathing and walking among them. Alayne didn't like to think of Sansa, it was too confusing, too painful, too hard. She was Alayne now, Sansa Stark was gone, she had to keep reminding herself of that.

And yet it was difficult, so difficult. When the first Winter snows came to the Eyrie, it was so difficult not to think of Winterfell. When news came that the bastard Jon Snow had taken the North from the Boltons, it was so hard not to want to go to him, to claim him as her brother, and seek his protection. It was so hard to forget Sansa Stark, and yet she had too, she had to forget that girl, thinking of her would only cause her pain. There had been a time when the plan had been to reveal Sansa in the future, to take back the North in her name, to marry Harrold Hardyng, and assure the Vale's support…. But a different future was ahead of them now.

Petyr often tried to shield her from the news of outside (or more likely, wanted to keep her stupid and unaware), and yet he couldn't stop her hearing gossip, couldn't stop her hearing of all that had happened. The Dragon Queen had come to Westeros, but not alone, not as many had predicted. No, she had come with her nephew Aegon, apparently saved and smuggled away from Kings Landing as a babe; he certainly looked the part (apparently), purple eyed, silver haired, carrying the Targaryen sword Blackfyre (which rumour told had been hidden away in Essos for years), and riding the dragon Viserion. She had also come with Tyrion Lannister as her Hand, Varys as her spymaster, a large army, her own dragon Drogon, and Rhaegar who hadn't claimed his rider. She had come to the shores of Dragonstone, taking her family seat before going to Kings Landing; it had been a short and bloody victory, akin to Aegon the Conqueror himself. She had subdued Kings Landing, giving the Storm Lands to the (now legitimatized) son of Robert Baraheon, Gendry, somehow got the Reach onside by finding a terrified Margaery Tyrell in the dungeons of the Red Keep (few knew how she'd gotten there and been saved from the explosion of the Sept of Baelor), Dorne had always loved her, the Iron Islands were crushed with Yara planted on the Throne, the Riverlands had been removed from Frey hands and given back to House Tully (Edmure had been found at the Rock with Roslin Frey and their two children) and the Westerlands had bowed to Tyrion as their rightful Lord. 5 kingdoms conquered in less than a year, with only 2 remaining.

Only the North and the Eyrie had been left alone, the North only for one reason. Jon Snow had been crowned as King in the North by his men, before the Targaryen's had shown up in Winterfell demanding his fealty. A short meeting had followed, with one Howland Reed attending, and soon Dany and Aegon had not only accepted Jon's kingship, but supported it, on the basis he reveal his parentage. Sansa (not Alayne…for what did Alayne care for a bastard in the North?) had nearly fainted when she had heard the truth; Jon was not Eddard Stark's bastard, but the Son of Rhaegar Targaryen and Lyanna Stark, who had married shortly before her pregnancy. Polygamy was fairly normal for Targaryen's, making Jon (or Jaehery's as he had been originally named), a legitimate Targaryen in the eyes of men. Add on the fact that the dragon Rhaegar had immediately bonded with Jon and rarely left the North since, and both Targaryen's had been happy to welcome a third family member, leave him in charge of the North (with the title of King, though both half's of the Kingdom forged an alliance), leaving only the Vale left in their path.

That had been a few short months earlier, and Alayne had been forced to ask her Father why they hadn't seen the Targaryen's yet. Rumour had it they were dealing with the threat beyond the wall, but Petyr had said nothing more… not until a week earlier with a raven from a spy he had at the wall…apparently, the White Walkers had fallen to the might of the Targaryen's, all was at peace in the North, and all was well, so well in fact that Brandon Stark had been found and was back at Winterfell. Sansa had wept for that at night, but Alayne had barely reacted… she had never met the Stark's, didn't care for them, but Sansa? Sansa wished for nothing more than to run to Winterfell, to her siblings, to be back home with them. Sansa belonged in the North, in Winterfell, but Alayne belonged by her Father's side in the Vale, and so she remained, though not by choice.

Still, the rest of the Kingdom had been subdued, Winter was raging making things difficult for the Crown, but apparently, things were still flourishing. The only puzzle piece left was the Eyrie, and both Alayne and Sansa knew the dragons would be coming to the Mountains next.

* * *

And she had been right, as dawn had barely broken over the horizon, and her handmaiden had shaken her awake in bed just a week after the raven had arrived from the Wall. She had raised a hand to her eyes to hide the sun, and was tempted to roll back into the bed, until she heard her handmaiden's words, her voice hushed due to the early hour… but also quiet, likely due to her fear.

"Your Father bids you dress and meet him Lady Stone, we have visitors from the North, he asks you to meet him to break your fast in the main dining room" Her voice was shaking and Alayne knew what that meant as she sat up in bed. One look at her shaking handmaiden and she dismissed her, preferring some time alone to think.

Evidently, the Targaryen's had come, it was the only explanation to her handmaiden's attitude, being awoken at such an hour, and the mysterious Northern visitors. Part of her… the Sansa part, grew excited that perhaps Jon (for he still carried the name Jon, but Jon Stark-Targaryen now – it had been a condition in the treaty with his Aunt and Brother) had found her, come to rescue her and take her home to Winterfell. But no, only two people in the world knew who Alayne truly was, and so she knew no one was aware of her being at the Vale. No one knew, and so no one would come to rescue her. Likely her family thought she was dead … 'no' she thought to herself, 'your family is here, your father Petyr is all you have left, that is all, you have no more family' – it was something she'd told herself again and again, and yet it was growing harder to believe, harder to forget Sansa Stark.

For a year, she had believed this would be her life, to live as Alayne until Petyr saw it fit to reveal her. She had forgotten about Sansa Stark, refused to think of her because of the pain it caused her. She had gotten used to thinking of Sansa Stark as another girl, thinking of herself as Alayne, and it had gotten easier with each passing week (well as easy as it could be, she had still cried herself to sleep everynight, and prayed to every god that she be saved), but now? Now, she was unsure, Petyr's plans had been thrown into question, and the Targaryen's were coming. Of course, they didn't know who she was, but what if they bought Jon? What if Tyrion was with them? Did Petyr plan to reveal her? What was the plan?! She hated being left out of the loop, and as she hurriedly dressed in a sky-blue gown with the symbol of House Arryn on the back in white, left her hair curled and flowing down her back (she noted in the mirror the red had began to take over again, stretching past her roots… she would need to dye it soon … or would she?), and pushed her feet into her white slippers she had to stop herself from running to the dining room. What could she expect when she arrived?

Of course, she hoped to see Jon, or even Tyrion; either would know it was her and would take her away, take her back home. Likely she knew if she returned to Winterfell she'd be married off to a Northern bannerman… but it was better than here, anything was better than here. No, she wasn't mistreated by Petyr… not yet, but she saw the looks he gave her, how he held her a little too close when they hugged, how his lips always brushed too close to her lips when he kissed her cheeks. It was dangerous, and she knew, she knew her time was running out with him, surely he was bound to act soon, and she wanted to be long gone before that happened; she needed to be gone. Littlefinger was dangerous, so dangerous and both Alayne and Sansa were afraid of him, so afraid she hadn't tried to escape, both knowing it was futile and too dangerous.

But now Cersei was locked up in the Red Keep awaiting judgement, and Sansa was as safe as she could be in this world. It was safe to be revealed, she just hoped today would be the day she could become Sansa again. It was hard, so hard … how could she reveal herself if no one she knew came? How did she know she was safe from the Targaryen's? How did she know they would believe her? It would be so dangerous to reveal herself if Petyr didn't, and yet she knew she had to get away from Littlefinger soon… if she didn't, then surely she would be in more danger? All such thoughts raced through her head as she walked through the corridors, pulling a white fur over her shoulders as she went. She was hurrying along, her hair unbrushed, dark circles under her eyes. She cursed herself as she caught a glance of herself in the mirror, Petyr would not be happy with her appearance.

He showed such displeasure as she met him in the courtyard, and he raised an eyebrow at her. She ducked her head as she stepped inside, and forced a smile as Robin ran forward to meet her, cuddling her close. Thankfully they weren't alone; Myranda was with them, as were a few servants, and they all sat down to break their fast together. Alayne sat far from her Father, but as breakfast was over, and the others departed to the courtyard he held her back as she tried to follow, and his hand was tight on her wrist.

"No kiss for your Father this morning my sweet Alayne?" He said, his voice hard, dangerous as he spoke.

"I'm sorry Father, I'm tired and out of sorts" She said, her voice gentle as it always had been, but also fear filled… Petyr may not have the fight in him that men who'd beaten Sansa did, but he was much more dangerous in other ways; and so, she leaned forward and placed a kiss to his cheek, forcing herself not to shiver as she did so.

"It's alright my dear, I know you're scared, but you need not be, the Targaryen's are coming yes, and we will submit to them, but they will take no interest in a bastard girl from the Fingers" His tone, and implication was clear; he had no plans to reveal her and as he strode out of the room to the courtyard she felt a pit settle in her stomach, and she nearly vomited up her breakfast.

He didn't plan to reveal her… and yet he planned to submit. That could only mean… he planned for her to be Alayne forever, what else could it mean? She felt sick, and tears bit at her eyes, no, no, no! She could not be Alayne forever, she could not, she would not.

"I'm Sansa, I'm Sansa" She whimpered to herself, "I'm Sansa Stark" And she was, she was! She would not remain here, a bastard girl named Alayne. What could Petyr's plans be for her if he didn't reveal her? Likely not something good, and she knew, she knew that today was the day. She would not stay here as Alayne, she would leave as Sansa Stark, she would, she was determined.

"I'm Sansa" She said to herself again, shaking as she did so, before she hurried out into the courtyard, terrified but determined, determined…today Sansa Stark would be back in the world.

* * *

"Is this even necessary?" She near rolled her purple eyes at her nephew's cocky tone, and shot him a look that suggested he keep his comments to himself. With that look she heard her other nephew burst out in laughter, and then the sounds of both japing back and forth. Gods they could be infuriating, brothers separated their entire life, and now entirely determined on bonding as much as humanely possible before one returned North and the other South. Still, it was better than them not getting along she supposed…though sometimes she felt like more of a Mother to them than someone younger than both.

Still, it also filled her with satisfaction; once she had believed herself to be alone in the world, the last of her family; now she had two family members with her, Aegon and Jon (ugh, she still hated that name, but he had agreed to change his last name for her, and had refused point blank to change the first). She was not alone, and her family was forging their dynasty once more. They had subdued the continent, and only had one kingdom to go, a kingdom they were looking up at now.

They had paused outside the Eyrie for the time being, their dragons resting for the moment. Once they were replenished they planned on flying up, just as Visenya had done during Aegon's Conquest. The Eyrie could not be taken by an army, but it was defenceless against dragons, and would be taken with ease, hence Aegon's comment, he had wished to simply send a raven, but Dany knew the importance of seeing their subjects bend the knee.

Their subjects … that was the a recently solved dilemma the Targaryen family had faced. Jon was happy as King of the North, was on the lookout for his Queen, and the Northmen were happy with him in place, that was simple, it was the South that had been the problem. Both Dany and Aegon wanted to sit on the Throne, as both had a right to it (though she had begrudgingly acknowledged that Aegon had the somewhat better claim), and both desperately wanted it. Dany, felt she had fought for it, and won them Westeros with her Dragon's, whilst Aegon had delicately mentioned over dinner one night that she would be unable to produce heirs, and thus the line would end with her. They had tried to reach a compromise, and were currently settling on the idea that Aegon would be King (providing he married a suitable woman), Dany would be the Lady of Dragonstone, and acknowledged Queen of Mereen and the Bay of Dragons, Regent if anything happened to Aegon, and hold the position of Queen in all but name in terms of running the realm. It hurt to give up what she had longed for, for so long, and yet she had come to her peace with it; the Targaryen's would be restored, her Father's Throne theirs once again, and she would be helping rule in all but name. It worked, and they had almost finished their goal, only the Vale stood in their way.

Hence the importance of coming themselves, "Because dear nephew, we cannot just send a Raven, we need to make sure they don't put up a fight"

Again, the more arrogant of her nephews merely scoffed, "Put up a fight? I'm sure the boy will take one look at the dragons, and collapse on his knees"

It took more diligence this time not to roll her eyes at him, "Robin Arryn isn't our worry, Baelish is, isn't that correct Vary's?" She said, turning to the spymaster, whom she had come to trust a great deal, since learning he was responsible for the fact both she and Aegon were still breathing.

"Correct your grace" He said with a nod, "If Littlefinger bends the knee, he will do so insincerely, it's best you deal with such a delicate matter in person, to ensure his loyalty, or remove him if need be"

She nodded then, and gave Aegon a look that screamed, 'I told you so', as the flap of the tent opened, and first came in Grey Worm, followed by Tyrion.

Ahh Tyrion, the most trusted advisor to the three Targaryen's stood in front of him. He had been crucial to their taking of Westeros, not only had he easily subdued the richest kingdom in the Westerlands, but he was their advisor on matters of the Country itself; the culture, it's people, it's geography. He gave them some legitimacy in having been born on the land, and when Dany had agreed to the compromise of Aegon taking the Throne, she had insisted Tyrion remain as Hand, something Aegon had immediately agreed to, and Jon had been somewhat annoyed about, likely hoping to snatch him up himself (though he had already named his Hand in Davos Seaworth, and Dany knew despite his annoyance he would never the man who had become one of his closest allies and friends). No, Tyrion had been crucial to them, and so as he indicated it was time to leave they followed out to the Dragon's, and as always she smiled as she approached her children.

God's, she loved them, and part of her was always sad to know they were growing up, and not all three were loyal to her anymore. Of course, they still saw her as their Mother, but she knew that other than Drogo their loyalty had now shifted. Viserion was loyal to Aegon, and Rhaegar to Jon, it showed as well as they approached, and all three Dragon's bent their wings, the riders taking their places without hesitation; all bonded as they should be. Though it was a little sad, again she felt the same satisfaction coursing through her veins; her brother had apparently lived by the idea that 'the dragon had three heads' as it showed on their house symbol, and he had been right, it did; Dany, Aegon and Jon made up those three heads, with their loyal dragons by their side (though Jon often joked they'd need to make room for Ghost, hence the fact he still hung the Stark sigil around Winterfell, insisting he would never give up his Mother or Uncle's heritage, as he had stood by when they had come to changing his last name god's that argument had taken ages to reach a compromise).

"Shall we?" Dany said, as she settled on Drogo, Tyrion, Vary's, Missandei and Grey Worm behind her, whilst Aegon and Jon rode alone.

"We shall" Jon spoke with a nod, and Aegon only rolled his eyes himself as the three of them took flight, making their way to the Eyrie.

* * *

Sansa had managed to calm herself some as she had arrived in the courtyard, a somewhat shaky plan in mind, but a plan all the same. She refused to remain here, to remain as Alayne at the mercy of Littlefinger. No, she would not do so, she had decided; she would not let the Targaryen's leave without revealing herself. She would have feared handing herself over to the mercy of the Targaryen's, but with Jon at their side she was sure they would spare her, or (if Jon hated her for her ill treatment of him in their youth, something she despised herself for), at least send her off to be a Silent Sister. Either way, if she was away from Littlefinger she didn't mind, she just had to get away from.

Because she understood now; if he had no plans to reveal her, that surely meant he planned to keep her for himself, perhaps to marry her in place of her Mother? The thought terrified her, and she had needed to take a few moments in the dining room to calm herself before she made her plan. It was a feeble plan yes, and would be difficult, but either way she was determined, determined to carry it out. She would not be Alayne forever, she was Sansa Stark of Winterfell, she belonged in the North, she belonged anywhere but the Vale, hidden as the bastard daughter of Petyr Baelish. She would not allow herself to rot away in the Vale, not as Petyr Baelish's wife.

And so, she stood in the courtyard, in the line-up. Petyr stood first, followed by herself, then Robin who was clutching both her hand, and Myranda Royce who stood on his other side next to her Father. All the Lords of the Vale stood in the line-up, all awaiting the arrival of the Targaryen's. Of course, all knew what was going to happen; they would bend the knee and Robin would be named Lord Paramount of the Vale, the meeting was more of a formality than anything else.

But not for Sansa. For Sansa, this meeting was a matter of life and death, the course of her future would be determined here, with the wind whistling through the air, and gentle flakes of snow trickling from the sky.

She was determined…her future would be one she would be happy with, not one she would be forced into.

* * *

As they circled the Eyrie, Aegon managed to get a good look at it, and to be truth he was impressed. He had grown up on stories of Westeros, of his homelands, of the Throne that was rightfully his, and though the Vale had not been a particular area of interest he could appreciate it now. It was a magnificent structure, and he was thankful for the Dragon's; they never would have been able to take it without them. And so, as they circled overhead, almost like vultures, he patted Viserion gently on the side, and nudged him to go forward. It was time to land, and see the men of the Vale bend the knee.

God's, it felt good to be here, to be subduing the final Kingdom. After this, they would move onto Kings Landing, except for Jon who would fly North… he could admit he'd miss Jon when he'd left, when they'd first met he was sure he was a mummer's farce, but after some convincing and the clear records of the Septon during the Rebellion's diary… well it had been clear, and Aegon had embraced his new brother, happy to have another family member. He would be sad to see him go, but knew it was necessary, Jon belonged in the North, whilst Aegon belonged on the Iron Throne.

He was glad to be able to say that to himself. For a while it had been unclear if Dany would agree to the compromise, but he was pleased she had. It made the most sense, and though he understood her frustration at giving the Throne up, they'd reached as fair a compromise as they could. Also, he never planned on excluding her, he would always seek her counsel, and include her in every decision he made, and never planned to rule over her or have her submit to his will. Honestly, he considered her to be Queen in all but name, hell he would have married her if she could have produced heir's, it was a shame she couldn't… for now it meant he would have to marry someone else, a prospect he was not looking forward too.

Already the names were pouring in from all the Kingdoms of who he should marry. Dorne wanted him to marry Arianna, to honour the pact made to betroth Arianna to his Uncle Visery's. The Reach were offering Margaery Tyrell up, with promises of extra food and gold to all areas if he agreed. Yara had agreed to give up Iron Island independence if he married her, and hordes of minor noble houses had sent raven's offering up their daughters to meet him. It almost made him ill, the idea of so many old men agreeing to sell their children off like cattle. Dany had received many offers herself, but had already refused them all with laughter, insisting if she couldn't have children then she wouldn't marry; she'd already given away her heart long ago to her deceased husband, and had no desire to marry for anything less than such a love, something she was certain she could never feel again. It was easy for her, and she had teased him that being King came with sacrifices…right it did, even Jon knew how he was feeling, though it was slightly easier for him, since he only had the North to contend with, whereas Aegon had women from all the other Kingdoms throwing themselves at him.

Still, marriage was something to think on at another time, now he had a Kingdom to subdue. And so, with a whistle he lowered Viserion to the ground, next to Dany who had landed Drogo and was already stepping down from him. He followed her lead as Rhaegal landed with Jon on his back, and took his place next to his Aunt, as Jon moved to her other side, and their advisors stood on either side of them. The dragons remained in place, settling down, but not taking to the skies; as much as they likely wanted to fly, they would remain to protect their riders. They were all in position, ready to discuss official terms and treaties before he heard a gasp, and saw a figure hurling itself towards them. He almost took a defensive position, and he saw Grey worm do the same, but the dragons didn't move, and Jon held up his hand before running forward himself, meeting said figure in a crushing hug.

Aegon was confused and turned to glance at his Aunt, to ask her, but he saw her smiling, and he decided to look at his brother himself. Jon was holding onto the person in his arms, who Aegon could now see was a girl, and as he saw the root colour of her hair it all made sense, especially as Jon placed her down and Aegon got a good look at her.

Good lord she was a beauty, delicate pale features, a slender but womanly body, long thick flowing hair, that though dark he knew would be even more beautiful when the red grew back in. It was her eyes that captured him though, a deep blue… Tully blue he realised, and he confirmed to himself then that this was no one other than Sansa Stark, Jon's missing cousin who he had search parties currently out looking for, the missing cousin that was accused of Joffrey's murder (though that had soon been disproven when Lady Olenna admitted to the whole thing), the missing cousin who frankly Aegon was taken back by. She was stunning, and as her gaze wondered to him, he found his purple eyes locking with her blue ones, and he almost cursed as she looked away… he was sure he could drown in that gaze.

Suddenly, he cursed himself, how foolish he was being! Acting like a green boy in the first throws of love. There were more important things to think of, particularly the fact that Sansa Stark had been found here, his brother Jon had thrown himself at who he could only presume to be Littlefinger (judging by Vary's laughter), and was attempting to strangle him to death, whilst the guards of the Eyrie had taken up arms, and Dany was looking to see red. Things had escalated far too quickly, and with a snap of his fingers he had Viserion letting out an almighty roar into the air, not to harm anyone, but to bring everyone to attention, and as everyone stilled and turned to look at his white and golden dragon, he knew it had worked.

"Everyone calm down" He said in a firm voice, and he glanced at Dany who nodded, after all he was the King. "Now Jon restrain Baelish, Valeman step back unless you wish to be roasted alive, and Sansa" He turned to the Northern beauty then, said beauty who was trembling in place, evidently terrified as she looked at Jon, and then Tyrion and then Dany and then him, clearly scared, and yet with a look of determination in her eyes (good, he thought, I can do with that) … at least I presume you to be Sansa, explain what on earth is going on"

* * *

So what did you think? I sincerely hope you enjoyed it. I know it's more of an intro, and it might seem like a lot crammed into one chapter, but I wanted (pretty much everything), caught up in the first chapter so I could sink my teeth into the real story next chapter. I'm currently planning out said second chapter, and want to have it up soon! It's rare inspiration for a story hits me this hard, and so I want to run with it!

Please let me know if you enjoyed it (but please no snarky reviews about my grammar, I'm aware it's not the best, hence why I'm a science major), via following/favouriting and reviewing. I always enjoy constructive criticism (again, see above, telling me that my lack of comma's, or improper use of apostrophise means I'm an idiot is not constructive), and hearing what people think. Also I'd love to hear suggestions for possible jon and dany pairings (but again not the two... I mean if there was enough call for it I could try it, but no probably not, since I just shuddered writing out that sentence). Let me know!

Again I do hope you enjoyed, and feel free to check out my other GOT fics (all of which will be updated soon I promise).

See ya.


	2. i'm never alone

**authorsnote:** here it is! I am so sorry for the delay (I am not nor have any intention to abandon this story!), just been super busy with the holidays and then finals! still, it is finally here, and I hope you enjoy it. I apologise if you're feeling this fic is quite slow, but it is a slow-burn, in my mind it's the only way the completely crazy, almost AU plot works - to take it slowly. still, I do hope you like it - and please let me know you do! review/follow/fav, they all make me smile. anyways, onwards, enjoy!

 **songrecommendations:** seven years - lukas graham. (quite note, if anyone has any song recommendations for chapters, i.e. a song you listened to whilst reading the chapter that you felt really fitted, please let me know in the review section and I'll add it here!)

* * *

once I was eleven years old...

my daddy told me,

go get yourself a wife or you'll be lonely

once I was eleven years old...

-x-

She wasn't sure what had propelled her forwards, what had motivated her to fling herself towards three towering beasts and the huddle of people stood in front of them just to get to Jon. Normally Sansa would never be so brave, so bold as to simply break rank and take a chance, but this time she had, she had to, and that was what motivated her.

Part of her knew it was because it was her only chance, by the looks of it the Targaryen's and their people would not be staying long – no, they'd be leaving as soon as they came, this meeting more of a formality than anything else. That gave her just one chance, one chance to escape the Vale, escape Robert and his neediness, and most importantly to escape Littlefinger; his schemes, his plans, the looks he gave her. She knew this was her one opportunity to be free of him and free of this place.

And so, she had taken it.

She had tried to come up with a plan in her head, a way to alert Jon without attracting any attention. However, the second she had seen him that idea had gone out of the window. As soon as she had seen him on the back of that beast she had known there was only one course of action; go to him. For what else could she do? Cower back and watch him leave, resigned to her fate here, masquerading as a bastard and destined to become Littlefingers plaything? No, that was not an option, there had only been one option, and so she had taken it.

However, she had been nervous, extremely so. With shame and colour in her cheeks she remembered their frosty relationship as children. She had taken on her Mothers contempt for him, treated him awfully, shunning him, ignoring him, laughing at him, like a child, an idiot who didn't understand. That had stopped her momentarily in her tracks; she had been ready to fling herself at him, and yet became scared to do so, questions flying through her mind. Would he accept her? Or would he shove her away with a sneer? A sneer she had often directed towards him in her younger years?

But she had known she had to risk it; surely Jon rejecting her was better than remaining with Littlefinger? Yes, she was thankful towards him for having rescued her, but she did not trust him – only a fool would trust that man, and many who had, had ended up dead. She also knew she was in danger around him, with the looks he gave her, the way he hugged her, the kisses he had tried to force on her. She had to get away from him, and she knew; her name was still Sansa Stark (no matter how much such a name had been buried), she had to have at least some political use to the Targaryens, surely they wouldn't shun her knowing she had some political leverage, and so with those reasons swimming around in her head she had decided to act.

As soon as he had come down from his dragon she had pushed her hood away, and taken a step forward. Littlefinger had whispered, a whisper that was both terrified and angry for her to fall back in line. She had ignored him, and as soon as Jon was on the ground she had rushed forward, ignoring Littlefingers cry out to her – she would not remain with him, never again, and this was her chance. She didn't care if he rejected her, if he laughed at her and told her to stay back; as long as he took her with him, for political uses or any other reason, it was better than remaining in the Vale.

And so, she had ran to him, hurling her body forwards, too quick for the Vale soldiers to realise what she was doing. She hadn't cared that some of the men with her brother held out spears, or that the dragons seemed to shuffle; ready to burn her. She hadn't cared, she had only flung herself at Jon, desperate to get to him. Crossing the small expanse to him had felt like walking for miles, rather than the few short steps she had to take to get to him. But then she had, she had reached him.

And she had _hesitated_.

Scared, scared of rejection, terrified he'd turn away from her. But he hadn't. She had seen the look of recognition in his eyes, the light of hope like a flame across his face. His expression had surely mirrored hers; one of hope, one of utter joy and shock, and that, that had encouraged her. And then, once he had opened his arms she had ran the few short steps left between them, and thudded into him, hearing his gasp as she knocked the wind from his body, but he didn't move, he just clutched her as she clutched him, so tight they might squeeze one another to death.

Tears had sprung from her eyes, and she had sobbed as she held onto him. For a moment, it had been just the two of them, clinging to one another, family reunited. "I'm sorry" She had whispered in his ear and she had felt him shake her head, plant a kiss on her cheek before settling her down, his eyes seemingly scanning her face for a moment, her smile so wide it could burst.

She was free, free clearly! His reaction had shown her – he wouldn't just take her away to use for her name, no, he'd take her away because he cared. He'd take her away from this awful place, with the horrible men, and her pretend Father. He'd take her away, probably back up North, to Winterfell – to home! A place she had once never dared to hope to return to. And yet she was sure he would, he'd protect her, the look in his eyes showed that as he looked her up and down, smiled at her.

And then everything had been thrown into chaos.

She had only managed to whirl around as she saw Jon stride over to Littlefinger, grasp him by the throat and pin him to the ground. "Jon no!" She had called out, not to protect Baelish, but because of the soldiers of the Vale, all drawing arms and advancing on Jon in an instant. His dragon had stepped forward too, the great green one spreading its wings and growling under its breath. She turned her head to the side and she had seen the blonde woman – Daenery's, a face full of fury, first calling Jon back, but then her mouth opening to bark commands.

Sansa had only felt fear run through her. She had just found Jon, the thought of him being hurt, of the Valemen reaching him had terrified her. She had called out, screamed to him in fear; they had just found one another! The two Starks left, she couldn't stand the thought of them being parted now!

But then a deadly roar had sounded, and the action in the courtyard stopped.

* * *

Jon hadn't quite been able to believe his eyes, that she was here, right in front of him. He had recognised her the second he had stepped down; even without her red hair, dressed in plain clothing, it would have been impossible not to spot her. Her posture, her mannerisms, and then when he had seen her face; her smile, the features of Catelyn Tully reborn, as clear as day. It was Sansa, and his own smile had broken out on his features.

He had been looking for her for a while; bands of his men had been roaming the countryside in search of her, and Arya; the latter had proved harder to find, and remained missing, but now he had one of his sisters back … or cousins he supposed, but then he'd always see Sansa as a sibling, it didn't matter that he wasn't Ned Stark's child, that he had been born to Sansa's Aunt, rather than her Father. It didn't matter, in his eyes they'd always be siblings, family, and how they were related didn't matter to him.

Sure, she hadn't been the best to him growing up, shunning him, repeating her Mother's mannerisms, but they'd still shared those precious sibling moments. When she'd fallen in the courtyard scraped her knee, and he had carried her sobbing to Maester Luwin, stroking her hair and holding her hand as the Maester had stitched her up. When he'd caught her in the kitchen stealing lemon cakes, and promised not to tell anyone so long as he could have some, and they'd spent the entire night sat on the floor stuffing themselves full. When he'd punched Lord Bolton's eldest son Domiric in the nose at age 10 because he'd told Sansa her braids weren't pretty, and then she'd braided his long curls to make herself feel better and he hadn't taken them out for two days. Sure, over the years they'd grown distant, but regardless Jon would always love her, always remember those moments.

And evidently she felt the same way.

Though he did notice her hesitate as she approached him, fear and worry in her eyes. He too had been nervous, a lump forming in his throat. Was she relieved to see him because of the love she felt for him? Or because she was thankful to be rescued from this place? Surrounded by strangers and all? He'd been unsure too, but had made the first move, opening his arms to her, allowing her to make the decision, the power to reject him, for he wanted her to be comfortable.

And then she'd ran to him all fear in her eyes gone, grinning from ear to ear as she did so, he'd swept her into his arms, clutching her tight, relief and happiness coursing through him, clutching her so tightly he was sure he might bruise her. She was here, she was safe, and soon enough she'd be back up North with him. He didn't care that the Valemen had raised their weapons, or that Littlefinger was glaring at them from across the courtyard. He was a King now, with a Dragon of his own and the backing of the Targaryen family; his family, and damn right he'd be taking Sansa home.

It was strange that, being a King. He'd been born a bastard, never to be anything more, and yet he'd gained so much. Lord Commander of the Night's Watch, turned King in the North, and then suddenly a legitimate child, son of Rhaegar Targaryen and Lyanna Stark. The right to the Iron Throne had been his, and yet when he'd explained this all to his new brother, his aunt, he'd immediately made clear; he didn't want the Iron Throne, would never move his seat to King's Landing. The North was his, and that was all, and a compromise had been easy. Still it was odd, to be a King, to wear a crown (though he wore none now), and yet somehow it felt right.

As did being a Targaryen. Yes, he would always first and foremost be a Stark, but now he knew his other half, his heritage. He had the blood of the Dragon, and now Rhaegal stood by his side. Sure, it had taken a lot of getting used to at first (and he had vomited twice when Samwell Tarly had shown him the records from the Citadel), but now he had somewhat come to understand and accept his position, taking both names; Targaryen and Stark, though he'd always be known as 'King Stark', never allowing the Stark name in the North to die out.

But now there was another Stark, Sansa and she would be coming home with him. He'd keep her by his side, make her feel safe again. He heard her whispered apology and those words meant more to him than most he'd heard in his life. He needn't have worried about her rejecting him, evidently she'd been scared he would push her away! How preposterous! And there was no apology needed as he shook her head, kissed her cheek and pulled her back to look at her, to make sure she was okay. Yes, she looked well as he pulled her back, his eyes scanning her face, but he doubted she'd been treated properly since fleeing Kings Landing. She was in the Court of Littlefinger after all, a notorious man Varys had warned him about, even going so far to show him drawings of the man's face. No, he imagined Sansa had been through her own hardships, though he didn't know what, and part of him wasn't sure he wanted to know … such a thought made him furious.

Why hadn't Littlefinger bought her back to him? He had been declared King in the North with ravens sent all around, to every major and minor house declaring he had allied himself with the Targaryen's. So why had Baelish not sent her home? Why had he dyed her hair and dressed her like a lowborn servant? So many unanswered questions, and yet he knew this man had been scheming. After all, as soon as he had arrived Sansa had thrown herself at him, risking rejection because clearly she was so desperate to get away from this man, desperate to escape. Sure, he understood they were siblings (or at least practically were), and they loved one another, but surely she wouldn't have ran to him with such urgency if she was happy in her current situation? No, Sansa had ran to him like a woman desperate to escape, a woman out of options, and no doubt Littlefinger had something to do with that.

A growl shook through him then as he thought over such a thing, and he both felt rage within him and saw Rhaegal rouse himself in response to his masters emotiosn, but Jon had no need for him now, no all he needed was his hands.

And soon he was using them, said hands clamped around Littlefingers throat after storming across the courtyard, too quick for his men to interfere in time. All he could see was that this swine had kept Sansa from him, likely terrified and used her, and that made him throw out logic and simply want to strangle the man to death, to get revenge, not just for himself, but for Sansa – revenge for whatever this man had done to her.

He didn't even listen as Dany called out to him, as the men of the Vale approached weapons drawn, and Sansa yelled in fear. No, all he could see was red, until he heard the roar of Viserion, and his brother's words over the sudden silence. He wanted to continue to throttle the man, but he knew he needed to let him go, to make sense of what happened. Jon could often be ruled by his emotions, and he knew he couldn't simply kill a noble Lord without just cause, no that would make him a tyrant in the eyes of his subjects, and so reluctantly he released him, though not without shoving him backward first, before marching over to Sansa, taking her hand and pulling her onto their side of the melee, glaring at all those opposite as if daring them to stop him, as if daring them to pull her back.

Jon was not a murderous person, but if one single person tried to take his sister away from him again he'd ensure their bones weren't even sparred from Rhaegal's fire.

Even though his brother had asked him to restrain Baelish he did no such thing, preferring to keep Sansa near him, away from the brothel keeper, putting a higher priority on keeping Sansa safe over murdering Baelish. No, the man had nowhere to run anyway, not now the Valemen had thrown down their arms at the very idea of being roasted alive, all trembling and kneeling, leaving a suddenly scared looking Littlefinger out of options. And so, Jon knew he was better off simply keeping Sansa next to him, for that's where she'd be from now on, as far away from the Eyrie as possible; back in the North, safe with him.

"It's alright" His voice was gentle then, for he could see Sansa was unsettled, but she needed to answer his brother's questions, they all needed answers, mainly Jon felt so they could justify executing Littlefinger, but also to understand what had been going on "No one will hurt you, not ever again, so Sansa, what has been happening?" He said with a nod, not releasing her hand from his, hoping to provide her with comfort and a feeling of safety.

Because damn right on his grave, Sansa would never feel unsafe again.

* * *

Well that had gone well, Aegon mused with a roll of his violet eyes. This meeting had meant to be nothing more than formality, a shaking of hands, signing of a treaty and they'd be on their way. They had a million things to do in Kings Landing, and he was aware his brother had just as many things to do in Winterfell. They didn't have time to be messing around with problems in the Vale, no, so this needed to be sorted quickly, though clearly it was not going to be.

Fantastic.

Evidently Jon was not going to listen to him; preferring to hold onto his cousin rather than attend to this Baelish fellow. But then, Aegon wasn't concerned, in fact with a nod he sent two of his own men to grab the brothel keeper, and soon they held him by the arms, none of the Valemen daring to step out of line, Viserion's roar taking away any of their courage. So, now at least Littlefinger was secured, and Lady Stark was safe and sound. They could finally figure out what had happened.

He realised as Jon whispered to his cousin, how improper he'd been in addressing Lady Stark, still it was technically a time of war no one could reprimand him for calling Sansa by her given name rather than Lady Stark. All the same, he had to remember the little things, now he was going to be King. He had to remember all those awful little niceties and social customs now he wore (or would wear with the upcoming coronation) the crown.

At least he could think of one thing that made him smile; Jon was no more proper a King than he was, having manhandled a noble Lord without due cause. All the same, Jon was of the North, they cared less about etiquette there and more about results; Jon had already won them over by releasing them from the tyrannical grip of the Bolton's, and defeating the Iron Born's at sea, handing the seat to the eldest Greyjoy girl. No, Jon had already won his people over, which Aegon admired - the Northern men weren't easy to bow. Still, they had to Jon, now Aegon had to do the same with the people of the South.

And he knew the people of the South were easier to win over in some ways and not so in others. He realised one of his key ways to win them over would be in his marriage, that would be a defining moment, and cement his rule, or weaken it ... not that he would allow the latter to happen, he would marry whomever necessary to ensure his rule ran smoothly, he would sacrifice love in that regard, as all good Kings would do.

"Aegon" He heard his Aunt then, looking at him with a confused expression as the courtyard fell silent, "Are you done looking gormless to the distance?" She said in a whisper so none others could hear, though her expression was somewhat mischievous he could see that glint in her eye that spoke to her seriousness. He glared at her as he turned his gaze back to Jon and Sansa, as he awaited the Stark girl's explanation.

"I…" But no, explanation came, as she managed just one letter before shaking her head, and completely shutting down. Again, Aegon resisted the urge to roll his eyes. He knew he needed to be less impatient now, needed to not have such a distaste for weakness, or such a low threshold for irritation . No, he had to be fair, kind, just, if he was King, not allow that famous Targaryen temper to get the better of him, as it had in the past (and no doubt would in the future, nobody was perfect after all).

"Shall we perhaps move this elsewhere?" He heard his Hand speak then, Tyrion would always have a solution, and evidently he knew Lady Stark was likely feeling extremely uncomfortable, perhaps a change of scenery would benefit them? Aegon nodded, but made no move to step down from Viserion; after all, what better way to go but down?

"We'll move this to our camp at the base of the Eyrie" Daenerys spoke then, her voice commanding, evidently having the same thoughts as he was, "We'll take the brothel keeper, and return here soon to discuss our treaty" She said with a nod, but then turned her suddenly fierce gaze to the men of the Vale, "And do not use this time to come up with a plan to take arms against us, or we'll simply burn the Eyrie to the ground, our children do love to set fire to things" On that note she ended, with a nod at Aegon, she waited for Tyrion, Grey Worm, Messandei, and two soliders to mount Drogon before she took to the skies and then plummeted to Earth.

He followed suit, sending one last glare to the soldiers of House Arryn. He paused however when he saw Jon climbing atop Rhaegal with Sansa (who was shaking from head to two and practically had to be carried by Jon onto the back of the dragon named for his Father), and three Targaryen men. With a sigh he realised it came down to him to transport Baelish. That left a rank taste in his mouth, but he knew it was necessary, no matter how distasteful. With a nod his men mounted Viserion, dragging Baelish between them. He ignored the brothel keepers protests, and instead took to the air after Jon, he too plummeting down to the camp, ignoring Littlefingers screams, and if anything they put a small smile on his face.

* * *

Once they landed it felt as though she was finally able to breath. She was free! Away from the Eyrie with Littlefinger in chains! It felt almost impossible to believe. Part of her was convinced she'd wake on the next morrow, it having all been a dream. And yet it was real! She was so sure it was real! The ride on the green dragon of Jon's had certainly felt almost too real, and she had been shaky both on and off the creature. But now she stood on firm ground, and it wasn't in the mountains, or part of the Eyrie. No, she was on firm land, away from her prison.

Tears sprung to her eyes as she realised just what had happened. The feeling of freedom, the feeling of being Sansa Stark again …. It was almost overwhelming, hence her trembling and the urge to burst into noisy sobs. It was almost too much, and yet she was a Lady, a Lady of the North, she kept her dignity, even though all she wished to do was cry and run around in circles, overjoyed she was free from the clutches of Littlefinger.

And she was free from him. She could hear him screaming as the new King landed…Aegon. Jon's brother. He seemed handsome, arrogant, but she hadn't put much thought into it, he seemed kind, but she didn't know him well enough (and didn't anticipate getting to know him), to make any judgement. All she knew was that she'd never trust a King again … at least not a King of the South. Not that she would have to. God no, as soon as Jon took her back to Winterfell she wasn't stepping a foot outside of the North again, not a chance.

Littlefingers screams seemed to dissipate as he was dragged from the white dragons back and taken into what was a suddenly heavily guarded tent. It was then she was shaken from her thoughts by Jon, who had given her a light shake to the shoulders, but was smiling kindly to her.

Oh, Jon! How easily he had accepted her! She had to resist the urge to throw her arms around his neck again. She had been so scared of him rejecting her, and yet he hadn't. He'd scooped her into his arms, held her close and made her feel safe. It would all be okay! Not that she could quite believe that yet … but she still felt safer than she had in years, that was all she needed for now.

"We need to go in" He nodded his head to the largest tent, to which she could see the majority of the party walking into. The Dragons had taken off as soon as it was clear they were not needed. She could see them flying overhead though; remaining close to their riders, but enjoying the freedom of the skies. How freeing it was… and yet she was free now too, she just had to keep reminding herself of that.

And so, she nodded her head at her brother … or cousin she supposed, and took his arm. She didn't want to do this, to have to explain and drag up the atrocities she had faced, but she knew she must. She had faltered on the mountain, too terrified to speak in the place that had been her prison, and yet they had moved here to accommodate her, she couldn't not give her account now. She had to tell them the truth; the new King, Jon, the Dragon Queen. She'd have to tell them all, and though that thought filled her with fear she just clutched Jon's arm harder as he led them forwards, determined, strong - she was Sansa Stark, she would not cower, not ever again.

* * *

so... thoughts?

I know, I know its slow burn, no real sansa/aegon interaction yet, but what can I say? I need it to feel real, I can't have her falling in love with him yet! but rest assured come next chapter they will have some real scenes together, and the relationship will begin to develop.

also for anyone worried Jon is simply going to fly off north and not be part of this, do not worry! no he will be sticking around (for the most part!), as will dany. I still need to find them both SO/s actually. I've had a few suggestions, but I would love some more! let me know who you think they suit!

again thank you so much for taking time to read my little stories, and please review/follow/fav. also if you fancy it check out my other got fics. and so, until next time!


	3. all the things

authorsnote: I'm back! I cannot believe it has been so long since I updated D: I can only excuse that I was insanely busy with university, and only finished very recently! but now I'm here, I can update and it feels so good! I'm so sorry for keeping you waiting, and yet am so happy that I can present this chapter, I'm damn proud of it, and I hope you enjoy it. this ties up an important part of the story so we can move forward, and I hope you enjoy reading it! please let me know in reviews what you thought, and follow/fav if you want to read on!

songrecommendations: this woman's work - kate bush, don't fear the reaper - denmark & winter.

* * *

I should be crying but I just can't let it show,

I should be hoping but I can't stop thinking,

of all the things that we should have said that we never said,

of all the things we should have done that we never did...

-x-

Aegon had happily seen the brothel keeper taken off screaming at the injustice of it all. He'd merely rolled his violet eyes and ignored the man as he was placed in a heavily guarded tent, screaming endlessly about his riches and how they'd all regret this. That had caused him to scoff; the man had nothing now, no power, no hope. Sure, they would need to discover his misdeeds, discover what he had been doing (and surely the list was long; not only had he been hiding Sansa Stark away, he'd evidently been up to much more according to Varys), and see justice prevailed.

Justice. It would be the backbone of Aegon's rule he was sure. He would not be tarred with the same brush as his Grandfather, never. He knew he had to be careful, his Targaryen temper could often overrule his rationality, and he often felt the need for immediate vengeance rather than to wait and be patient, but he had to be. He was going to be King, once all this business was cleared up they would go to King's Landing, and he would be crowned, with a large coronation ceremony. He had to be better, he had to be patient, he was to be King, he couldn't afford mistakes.

And there was so much to sort out, so much it almost gave him a headache.

But he had been prepared for this, trained and taught from a young age to rule. Jon Connington had been his rock, his mentor, his Father in all but name. He had taught him the way forward, taught him to be fair, but ruthless if need be. Aegon would be a good King, he knew that, he just had to live up to what he knew he could do.

And that would start now. Conquering and ruling were two very different things, as Robert Baratheon had failed to realise. They had conquered the Seven Kingdoms (well six now), had defeated the threat of the Others beyond the Wall, they had won through bloodshed and battle, but now? Now they had so much more to do. They needed to fix the realm.

First he would be crowned, and then he would name his small council, and deal with all those who'd stood against him. Thankfully most major houses still existed, but certain Lordships and titles would need to be revoked and handed out. He had plenty of prisoners in the black cells to deal with, and then it would be the matter of sorting out the crowns debt. Then there was the Faith to deal with, and that would not be easy. There was so much to do, and yet Aegon looked forward to doing it. He had fought for this, he had bled for this, he had lost for this. He would be King as he had always wanted, and he would shoulder the responsibilities that came with that.

"Brother" He heard Jon's voice and turned to smile at him. It was funny how life worked out, when one Jon had left him, another had entered his life. Jon Snow … or at least Jon Stark Targaryen as he was now known, how they had embraced one another as brothers, and how wonderful such a thing was. Aegon was delighted to have a brother, to not be a lone Targaryen as he had once believed. No, there were three of them now, the three heads of the dragon, and they would ensure the family name continued on and thrived. "Shall we?" And Aegon nodded, but not before pausing.

Jon evidently had not progressed to the meeting room alone. Sansa Stark stood to his side, her eyes on the floor. A shame she acted such a way … almost as though her spirit was broken, and he felt his anger boil as he knew that was Littlefinger's doing. No beauty such as her should have her eyes on her feet. He wanted to say something, to comfort her, but what? He didn't know her. Yes, they had shared a look moments earlier in the courtyard … or rather he had unashamedly gazed at her for far too long … it was those eyes, so beautiful, so all consuming… he hadn't been able to help himself. But that was no excuse; he was a man grown! A King! Not some greenboy lusting after a girl! And besides, she didn't know him he didn't want to step out of bounds, and he saw the look Jon had when he glanced at his cousin … the look of pure overprotectiveness, Aegon felt perhaps it was better he said nothing.

And yet of course he couldn't help himself. Aegon knew he was too impulsive, always going for what he wanted. He was ruthless in that sense too, and far too arrogant for his own good sometimes (at least that was what Daenery's said), and yet here his voice was gentle … or as gentle as he could, as he spoke to Sansa, "My Lady, I hope you are well, we'll proceed to the main hall and discuss Littlefinger's crimes before accusing him" He hoped he sounded gentle; Aegon had been raised to be kind and fair yes, but not gentle, gentleness could be construed as weakness, and he couldn't afford to be weak… ever.

The way she flinched in response told him he hadn't been gentle, and yet Jon didn't admonish him, nor react (and he knew Jon could be fiercely protective too, just one widling had made an out of line comment towards Daenery's and Jon had first broken his nose and then near set Ghost on him), and so Aegon presumed his words had been kind. Evidently, Sansa was a little shaky, could he blame her? He knew shortly they'd need to find out what she had endured under Littlefinger, and yet Aegon wasn't entirely sure he wanted to know; he could imagine it hadn't been pleasant.

"Perhaps Sansa should sit out of this discussion?" Jon said, his protectiveness rearing its head as he turned the cousin, Aegon knew he still considered a sister. And yet she shook her head, her gaze flickering up to her cousin and then to him. Again, Aegon found himself looking into her gaze before she looked away again … it was something about those eyes that drew him in…

And yet he cursed himself again! This was not how he was supposed to act. Good Lord he was acting like his Father! Lusting after a Northern woman, and look how that had turned out. No, as beautiful as Sansa Stark was, there was nothing there that could blossom between them. Though he found himself wanting to get to know her better, even protect her, there was nothing that could happen. He would need to marry a girl from the South, likely Margaery Tyrell or Arianne Martell. He would not be ruled by his own wants, but what was best for the realm. That was what a good King would do.

"I'm fine Jon" She said, her voice quiet, and yet clear, "I know you need me to tell you what's been happening, and besides I want to help" She said, and then lifted her head, even placed a small smile on her features, "It's hard but I'm stronger now, I want to see justice done, honour demands it" She said, and Aegon again found himself catching her gaze, even found a smile coming to his features; now that was a strong woman, a true Northerner – honour demands, he was sure he'd heard Jon say the same thing once. The Northerner's were truly a breed of their own weren't they? And yet he found a commorardiary with their ideals; honour and justice, he hoped to rule in the same kind.

"Then, let us go" He said with a nod, and made his way to the main tent where Daenery's and Tyrion were already waiting for them. It was time to see justice done.

* * *

Everyone filed into the great hall, as servants bustled around, pouring out wine and plating up food on a long table at the back. They marched with a smaller retinue this time, the main army already marching to Kings Landing with trusted Unsullied leading them. All they had here was a small collection of servants, advisors and then the Targaryen's themselves, and now Sansa Stark to add into the mix as well.

Daenery's wasn't sure what to think of Jon's cousin in truth. Yes, she was a beauty as many had described her. And yet timid it seemed, with a quiet strength underneath. Dany approved of that, and knew the girl had more to her than she had shown thus far; evidently holding something back. Dany wished she could get to know her better, and yet she knew in such a short amount of time it would be impossible. They had Littlefinger to deal with, then to go back to the Eyrie for the reason they had originally came, and then Jon would go North with Sansa, and she and Aegon would go South to King's Landing.

That filled her with such a sense of pride when she thought of that. All these years she had fought, she had hurt, she had sacrificed and suffered, and yet they were here. She felt a little bitter it wouldn't be she climbing those steps, and taking her place on the Throne, and yet she understood and agreed with the decision they had come to. It had hurt at first, acknowledging that Aegon had both the better claim, and would likely be better received by the people, but she had come to accept it. If not her, then at least a Targaryen would sit on the Throne, and she would help him rule and shape Westeros to its best. Such thoughts filled her with pride and happiness; they were so close, so close to forging the Targaryen dynasty once more.

And they had so much to do, she knew that, and she was sure Aegon knew it too. He was cocky yes, ruthless and impatient, but she knew he would make a good King, she was sure of it. And this realm needed a good King, especially now, when there was so much pain and so much to be dealt with.

Jon had it easy in that sense, managing one kingdom instead of 6 … but then his Kingdom would still be larger than Aegon's, and he had all sorts of painful decisions to make, and so much to manage. Honestly, it was harder to see who would be getting the worst deal of it all, but they had all wanted this … well not Jon she supposed, though he had marched on the Bolton's, but he had never wanted to be King. Still, he would do a good job, as Aegon would she was sure… and she would be by both their sides, to ensure it all went well and they had the support they needed.

She was snapped from her thoughts as the tent flaps opened and in marched the brothers themselves, with Sansa Stark practically clinging to Jon's side. Dany felt her heart soften at the view of the girl. She knew in moments they would be told of the horrors she had endured at the Eyrie. They would no doubt be hard to hear, but necessary all the same.

It didn't take long for everyone convene, chairs set up in a kind of circle, so they could discuss.

Aegon sat, and Jon next to him on his right, with Daenery's taking her place at his left. Tyrion was then next to her, with Sansa next to Jon. Finally, Missandei sat next to Tyrion, and Vary's completed the circle next to both Missandei and Sansa. Grey Worm stood vigil by the door, and all other advisors were elsewhere. Dany knew that Jon felt annoyed not having Davos by his side … but Davos was back up North, keeping everything under control until Jon returned … when Jon returned.

The selfish part of Dany wanted Jon to remain with them. To come to King's Landing, to sit on the Council. She knew if he had agreed, he would have been Aegon's hand, Tyrion would have happily stepped aside, and Aegon would have accepted nothing less. But he had told them time and time again; he didn't belong down South. He belonged in the North, with Ghost by his side, and now Rhaegal too. He belonged in Winterfell, with the Stark and Targaryen banners flying high on the towers. It was where he was meant to be, and as much as Dany hated to admit it, she knew he was right.

And he would be fine. She would visit often, the journey on the back of Drogon would only take days rather than weeks, and he had agreed to visit the Capitol at least once a year to see them, and they had agreed to do the same to Winterfell. They would send Raven's and remain in touch, it wouldn't be the same as all being together … but it was enough, it would be enough.

It was surprising how close they had all grown so quickly, but then … they were the last remaining members of the Targaryen's, and there was a need to stick together. Add on to that that Jon and Aegon seemed meant to be best friends, and she was the third of the Trio, keeping them in line, but loving them all the same. They just clicked the three of them, it was natural, the way a family should be; it was a good foundation for the Kingdom's to be built on, and Dany hoped, oh she hoped it would all be well.

Things would be well, she told herself. It was all well and good to hope, but action meant more than prayers.

Once everyone was seated, a few servants bustled in to pour wine and offer food. But everyone stuck to drinking; they'd have a small feast later, once they officially took the Eyrie. It was good as done with Littlefinger in chains in their camp, but they would need to return to have Robert Arryn officially bend the knee … the boys would no doubt protest but she would get them to do it. It was necessary to see them bend, not just hear word of it. She knew that, and Aegon particularly needed to know that too.

For a moment, everything was quiet as people sipped their wine, and then Aegon spoke, his voice hard and almost cold … he had that way about him, the ability to fly off the handle in a fire like fury, and then speak with a coldness to his voice that almost made her shiver. It was intimidating; but that was good. He would need to be authoritative, to be in charge, to give off the aura that not only did he have the claim but he had the makings to be King, and so she approved as he took the lead in the meeting.

"We are here to discuss the crimes of one Petyr Baelish" He said, "Vary's has already given evidence to his crimes, but we must hear from Sansa Stark, to get a better picture of what happened in the Eyrie, then we will convict him, and then return to the Eyrie to see Robert Arryn bend the knee" He said with a nod of his head, and then all eyes turned to Sansa, though Jon spoke first.

Oh Jon, so different from Aegon; humble, gentle and yet he too had the makings for a good King. He was strong, a better swordsmen than most, legendary with a blade, and so brave, fearless almost. He was a Northern King though that was clear. "Sansa has agreed she wants to speak to what she endured under Baelish, however no one is to press her" His tone was harsh, it was clear this was not a point to be argued, "She will speak as much as she wishes, and no more, understood?" He too had the authority of a King. Neither wore crowns that was true, but they would both soon; they both had what it took to be good King's, and Daenery's felt her heart glow with pride.

Everyone nodded in turn; no one wanted to pry Sansa Stark, not when she looked so meek sat next to Jon. Daenery's could sense a strength to her, and yet she had clearly endured much. They had a fractured picture of it; the atrocities in King's Landing, followed by her escape, but they knew nothing past that. Now the gaps would be filled in, and yet they would not force her to detail everything; anyone who tried would surely meet Jon's fury.

"It's alright Jon" She spoke up however, and she smiled timidly at her cousin; though it was clear they still viewed one another as siblings. "I can give you an idea of what happened, but also speak to Baelish's crimes specifically" She nodded then, and Daenery's almost steeled herself; this would not be easy.

And so, Sansa began to weave a tapestry of what had happened to her. How Baelish had smuggled her out of King's Landing, taken her to the Eyrie for her protection, had her masquerade as his bastard daughter to ensure her safety. How he had killed Lysa both to protect her and secure control of the Eyrie as Regent. How he had planned for her to marry Harrold Hardying and kill off Robin Arryn, to ensure the Eyrie would rally around her taking the North and the Riverlands, how he would then kill Harrold and marry her himself, securing three of seven kingdoms under his rule in one move. It was sinister, horrific, and yet it was a genius plan one had to pragmatically admit, but much had seemed to go wrong.

Harrold Hardying had died a week before the wedding, a tourney accident of all things. Of how they had heard about Jon retaking the North, and the landing of the Targaryen's, of how Baelish had kept more and more from her, but had clearly still meant to marry her, to keep her in the Vale. Daenery's heard Sansa's voice grow more thick with tears as each sentence passed, and saw the girl begin to shake. However, she brushed off Jon when he tried to insist she needed to stop, and continued on; clearly she wanted and needed to get this out. She spoke of how scared she had been that Baelish would marry her, how he had forced kisses on her and had hinted there was more to come. That was the hardest to hear, and the information that spurred the most reactions. Tyrion looked furious, Jon had let out a growl and broke the handle of his chair, and Aegon hadn't moved for about a minute, but his eyes spoke of his cold fury. No one interrupted however, as Sansa continued.

She spoke of how they had heard the Targaryen's were coming and Baelish had made it clear he had no plans to reveal her; that was when she had realised what she had to do, hence her mad dash at Jon in the courtyard, and now they were here. She stopped then, the Northern girl, and bowed her head, clearly finished, and silence fell across the room for a moment, minutes ticked by in the tense silence, before both Jon and Aegon tried to speak at once.

"I…" Aegon began.

"I…" Jon began. However, the former nodded his head in acquisition and Jon continued. "I shall take his head" His gaze was fierce and he had reached out and took his cousins hand. "Honour demands it, I shall swing the sword" He said, and there was clearly no room for argument. He did however look for the approval of his brother; this was technically Aegon's jurisdiction, but he nodded; no one would deny Jon this right.

"Agreed brother" Aegon spoke, his tone too was as cold as winter, evidently he was furious. That was a key difference between the brothers; Jon when angry was like the sun, furious, fiery, but Aegon? His hot Targaryen temper often got the better of him yes, but more often his anger was displayed in a cold fury, that was often more terrifying.

"Bring the brothel keeper to just outside the tent" Aegon spoke to Greyworm and the Unsullied hurried off.

"You should burn him alive" Daenery's spoke up then, she had remained quiet, though she certainly wished to speak to Sansa later; she sensed the girl could use some female companionship. "Make him feel the pain of his flesh melting from his bones" She said, her voice harsh; she too was furious, hence her suggestion of such a punishment.

Sansa looked a little unsettled at that, Jon too, and they both shook their heads. "No" Jon spoke.

"The man who passes the sentence should swing the sword" Sansa spoke next to him with a nod of her head, seemingly more passionate than before … she looked less downtrodden at least. Daenery's suspected speaking of what had happened to her had helped, hopefully now she could rebuild her self-confidence, and make peace with her past. "That is the code us of the North follow" She said with a nod of her head, and she caught Jon smiling at her. Daenery's nodded in defeat; Northerner's were indeed strange, and yet she wouldn't argue their method of punishment, not when Sansa more than anyone deserved to decide the Brothel Keeper's fate.

Greyworm appeared again then, but there was no need for him to speak, they could hear a dragging sound and then the cursing of Littlefinger outside. And so, they all stood, Jon took Sansa's hand, and Daenery's took Aegon's. It was time to see justice done, and then they would move on.

* * *

It had been hard, extremely hard to speak of, there was no denying that. And yet somehow she felt lighter … like a huge weight had left her shoulders. For so long everything had been secretive, she had been suffering alone, but now? Now she was safe… she was free of Petyr's grip and the oppressiveness of the Eyrie. And now they would see justice done. Sansa felt lighter than she had in months … years. Yes, there was still a lot of mending to do, a lot of nightmares would still come she was sure, but it was better than before, much better, and that was more than she could ask for.

As they walked outside her hand clasped in Jon's, Sansa did feel safe, a deep feeling of safety. Yes, it was all a bit sudden, and it would take a while to adjust, but here she knew she had nothing to fear. She had Jon, Jon would protect her. Tyrion too; he had always been kind to her, always tried to take care of her. And then there were the Targaryen's (though she supposed Jon counted as one now too, that was one of the strangest things of all, seeing them all together; she would always regard him as a Stark, like her), they intimidated her yes, and yet they seemed kind, and the way Aegon had spoken to her … she thought he would make a good King, and he too made her feel safe.

"Are you alright?" Jon interrupted her thoughts and Sansa managed a nod. She certainly felt shaken up and yet it was good, it was the feeling of being … free, free of the weight of what had happened to her. There was still much healing to do, but this was the first step, and though she felt drained it was good, it truly was.

"I am Jon" She said with a small smile, "As long as I'm here, I'm good" She said, and he smiled back; god, how had she ever been cruel to him? He was her brother, whether in name or not.

"Well then" He said, as the tent flaps were pulled back, and she nodded; it was time.

They walked outside, and though technically this was part of Aegon's territory he had clearly relented control of this situation to Jon. She liked that, that he didn't seem power hungry, this new Targaryen King. He seemed kind, a picture of the Targaryen's in looks; certainly, handsome. Again, she couldn't help but think he'd make a good King, and for the first time in a while she felt a little blush rise to her cheeks as she glanced over at him, but she quickly pushed that down; there were more pressing matters at hand.

Particularly Petyr, who they were approaching and then came to a stop in front of. He was thrashing and trying to curse, but someone had gagged him. His eyes were wildly looking around before settling on her. She felt the clench in her stomach of fear, but found it abated quite quickly. He could do nothing to her here! Nothing at all! She was safe from him now, and she found something akin to a smirk come across her features. She need not fear him anymore.

"Jon" She said gently, and he nodded at her, now it was time, to see justice carried out.

The block was set in place as Jon stepped forward and unsheathed Longclaw from his belt. Petyr went wild at that, thrashing all the more, screaming in fear and horror, and with each scream Sansa felt all fear abate; they had the power here, not him, and damn … whether it made her malicious or cruel or not … it felt good to have power over the man who'd oppressed her so.

"Petyr Baelish" Jon spoke, his tone formal now, the tone of a true King, "You have been convicted of treason, of murder, bribery, robbery, and a whole host of other crimes. A trial has not been deemed necessary due to the overwhelming evidence" He said; in truth there should have been a trial, but not for this man, not after all he'd done. "My brother Aegon of House Targaryen, fifth of his name, King of the Andals, protector of the Six Kingdoms and defender of the South, and I, Jon of Houses Stark and Targaryen, first of my name, King of the First Men, protector and defender of the North, do find you guilty, justice must be dealt" He said, "Any last words?" He asked, with a nod for them to remove the mans gag.

"Please! No, no!" He screamed the second he could speak and Sansa flinched, but forced herself to remain in place. He could not hurt her now, that was all she had to remind herself; though it was hard as her gaze met his. "Sansa! Please, please!" He seemed so scared himself now and that gave her strength, "Please don't do this! This is corrupt! This is wrong, I am entitled to a trial! Sansa please, please" He screamed, and yet she did nothing, she would do nothing, and instead she simply turned to look at Jon and nod her head, to which he did too, before bringing the sword down and silencing her oppressor once and for all.

Silence descended across them all, and Sansa found herself letting out a deep breath she had not known she was holding. It was done, he was gone, she was safe. Her entire body seemed to relax, months of tension expelled, and she found herself leaning on Jon to remain standing. It was done, she was safe, that was all she could think.

"We return to the Eyrie in one hour" Aegon spoke, and she felt Jon nod, but didn't respond herself, her head was spinning with relief now, it was almost too much, the utter relief that drained her so. He was gone, he was gone.

"Come on Sansa" Jon spoke, his voice gentle as he walked them to one of the tents, "You're safe, you're safe, you need to rest" She could only nod in response.

He was gone, she was safe … he was gone, she was safe.

* * *

so thoughts?

I really hope you enjoyed it, as the more I write this story the more I love it! I have a really clear direction of where I'm heading with it now, and I think I may have worked out who I'm going to put jon and deanery's with (any guesses?).

the next update will be much swifter, and I am getting on it with my asoiaf fics! to my journey readers, that fic was updated yesterday, and all other asoiaf fics should be updated asap! I'm currently working on editing a wolf among thorns and getting chapter 11 up, so keep an eye out for that!  
thank you for your continued support, and I hope to do better going forward! please follow/fav, check out my other asoiaf fics, and let me know what you thought of this chapter by reviewing! thank you!

xoxo


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